it’s very vegas, a huge pile of cash piling over the edge of the table.

Yang is leading Lam about 4:1 still.

Can’t say the cards is great, but this is really about the money at this stage.

5.35 million pre flop 10,3,2 rainbow goes to Yang…

Reflections on Vegas will have to be done après kip. Ta tuirse on domhain orm. Must sleep for days. Then work out what i thought on what i can only describe as “the n!pple on the t!t of capital!sm”.

“Don’t ask me how I know but this but the old saying ‘what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas’ doesn’t wash with the cops” was the first thing our captain said to us when we got in the plane.

I’d been down in San Diego for two nights and was getting a South Western flight back to McCarren for my return flight to Gatwick. Where I would have an eleven hour wait (who oh who booked these flights?!) before returning to Dublinia.

The cabin crew on this plane were stand up comedians of epic proportions. Referring to our destination as “Viva Lost Wages” and a “nice and cool 98 degrees.”

Other classic quotes include:

“Wear your belt like Britney Spears wears her pants, low and on the hips.”

“There’s a no smoking rule in our potties, and there is a fine of $2,000 should you break this rule. Lets face it, if you were going to spend that much money on a flight you would have booked with Delta. “

“This is a non smoking, non whining, non complaining flight.”

“In the event of a loss in cabin pressure, immediately stop screaming and put the cup shaped thingy over your face. Should you be sitting by a young child or a person acting like a young child, bad luck.”

“If this is your first time flying, please wave both your arms in the air for the duration of the ride.”

As we hurtled down the runway about to take off, the PA blares out “run phorest run!”

“The cabin princesses will now be passing through the aircraft collecting your garbage and anything else you want to give them. This includes spare twenties, credit cards and diamond earrings.”

When the plane landed and the doors opened, just a “get out!” was shouted over the PA. The funniest flight I have ever had.

Ross has left the building -

logging off for now, am sure i’ll think of more for you and will update then, maybe even another vid.

peace out hommies.

Our stand was in a pretty cool place and we had lots of names and faces drop by, except doyle who whizzes by on his scooter thingy (they are everywhere over here)

is there something on my chin? the parkinson show featuring scott grey.

i’ll never know if it’s grey or gray. knowing scott he wouldn’t mind i’m sure. being on the wagon, these two opt for hanging at GLE stalls instead of propping up the bars of the rio.

some fella who won the irish open once, i hear he’s huge in kansas:

some dude from kansas comes up, sees marty playing on the screen behind us and is bowled over. he gets marty to sign ten irish open dvd’s that he’s going to give to his final table players in his monthly poker tournament. Marty was chuffed and delighted that his autograph count got in to double figures.

i’m almost sure that’s allen cunningham

just as we were taking our stand down, michael the third swans in sipping a whiskey.

nice fella.

ME ME ME ME ME ME ME

Vegas is amazing in that, if you can think it, it can happen.

We celebrated my 29th revolution of the sun in a rain forest themed club - in a desert. unbelievable. the place was so oppulent, and yes that is a waterfall in the background:

as a special birthday treat, we were allowed break dance our way around wynn’s:

wynn’s was such a nice place that i didn’t mind losing my b******s to them at the roulette wheel.

roland with two mingers:

Howdy Par’ners!

Yeah as Karl was whining about, the internet in the hotel was banjacksed and the GLE was a bit mental the past few days. More on this later, maybe.

With any reporting on the WSOP being beautifully handled by the other posters, i’ll try and give you a flavour of the place using the medium of video.

this video is suitably paced for a town that is non-stop and full-throttle.

got in to the wsop yesterday before play started (sneaky me) so i got some footage of the room, empty except for one dealer at each table.

it’s a bit annoying that they are hardly letting spectators in, there was a queue for about two hours yesterday, without a pass you’re nobody

the neon-y rides are at the top of the stratosphere, where these things plunge off the edge. i’m sure they over engineer these things, i’m sure they’re safe, i will never ever dangle myself off a mile high building unless it’s extremely necessary.

JFT’s now famous belt buckle

She’s so in love with me, I’m sorry Phil!

oh great another company with the same tag line as us!

millionaire jamie gold dropped by our stand and mentioned that nobody had invited him to the irish open three times in the one sentance.

for the boyos in customer service, it’s gary, gary from poker pro magazine:

INTRO:

Despite the fact that he thinks my surname is Malone.
Despite that saying his name makes you say “Aaaagh” like when you’re at the doctors.
Phil Laaaaaaaaaaaak is a tremendously decent, happy fella.

CONTEXT:

Back in my bed at the hotel, it’s 4.12am in the UK, Ireland, Portugal and South Africa. 8.12pm here. It’s been a long, long day. Going to have a Paddy Power Nap, not too concerned if I sleep for 4 or 12 hours, we’ll let me bod (and what a bod) decide. Vitamin C drink favoured over Vitamin Beer. Booms bang or should that be bangs boom out from the Belagio’s fountain show every few minutes. Aircon hums away (will try to have a posting with no ref to temperature, airconditioning or humidity sometime before I leave here)

picture of dawn from my room:

PADDYTASTIC:

“It’s the greatest tournament in the history of, like history” is how Phil Laak described the Irish Open – a quote that says more about Phil than the Irish Open. Phil Laak is a dude. Phil Laak is an optimistic, energetic, all round nice guy. Phil Laak is also Irish.

Phil and Lesley at the Irish Open 07

PHILO:

Phil’s parents moved from Ireland when he was three, so he was blessed with the good natured gambling spirit of a Paddy and the blonde hair of his Scandi father, a combo that would see him quickly rise to the top of the game of poker in the USA. Had he not moved he would now be called Philo, he’d probably work for Paddy Power, in fact eh, he’d probably be me. Likewise I’d like to think that if my parents had moved to the States when I was three and if I had turrets, I’d be just like Phil. But none of that happened, so back to this so called reality.

HEADS UP, PANTIES DOWN

I wander in to the hall earlier and there is Phil playing a charity tournament heads up with his good buddy Antionio the Magician Esfandiari. Despite the fact neither gent is particularly cynical, they’re clearly aware that good press and having a high profile will lead to fame and/or guaranteeing riches. Phil loses the game with Antonio (but feels better about it when I point out that he came second). Phil then plays a bunch of twenty something Americans heads up. Hollering out his smart ass comments, he’s a real crowd pleaser. After he finishes there’s twenty or so people hanging about. Every one of them wants to get their photo with Phil or an autograph. Phil graciously entertains them. Spotty man children awkwardly stand beside Phil while a friend or parent tee’s up a photo. (at this point I’d like to coin a word, “cameraspaface: the face of a person taking a digital photo”. Without a traditional camera blocking ones face, people with cameraspafaces are now exposed and we can all see their amused prolonged smile which is unique to this situation*. It is a combo of:
- a smile because they want the subjects to smile and/or they have just said or thought the word cheese/smile. (trick: say smile and try NOT to smile)
- concentration, after all they are using a technical device
- fear, that the attempt to take a photo will some how not work or be sabotaged causing issues for all involved. Do you feel relief or apathy after taking a photo of a group?

*Unique albeit very similar to readingafunnyemailfromafriendintheofficespaface. Oi smiley! We KNOW you’re not working!)

crowds gather around Phil

CONTEXT 2:

The above was written 36 hours ago, since then, I’ve slept and worked. It’s been a busy past while but fortunately for you I’m back at laptop and raring to type my chubby little fingers off.

BACK TO WHAT I WAS ON ABOUT EARLIER:

Oh yeah, so then with Phil we walk over to the bar, have a bottle of the Kenmeister (am I turning in to Ross O’Carroll Kelly?) had a little chat and then started walking along the corridor from the main event to the GLE show. It took an hour to walk 30 yards: People coming up non stop and creating lines for photos and autographs with Phil. Someone’s agent somewhere wants Phil to meet some online qualifier. It’s slow and painful. Snails sneered at us as they zoomed by.
I would be hitting people, it’s bizarre, they don’t want to talk to or know Phil, or have anything of interest to say, they just stand there and wait for their photo op. The Ross-Phil conversation was over, public Phil was all go, he was off to Poker Pro Magazines stall to sign autograph’s to hundreds of waiting people, how and why would and could someone do this? It takes a huge amount of patience, which I guess Poker does to. We finished up and arranged a date for next Monday.

ZOOM:

That was two days ago. Yesterday I see Phil, or a blur of Phil running through the GLE. I smirked when I realised that’s how he gets through crowds – you gotta run. It’s a brave autograph hunter that stops a running man with his head down.

COMMITMENT ISSUES:

Phil then changed his mind and rescheduled our date for what was last night. Paddy Power heads were tired after a long day. Resting seemed like the more attractive option, but sometimes you gotta push yourself, it is Vegas afterall. So Phil gives me a napkin with what looks like a childs impression of a map scrawled across it. Several hours later we find this Lotus of Siam restaurant. Phil is there with his beautiful partner Jennifer Tilly; Jim, a backgammon buddy of Phil’s from LA and Jim’s partner Patti.

JENNIFER “F***ING” TILLY

Jennifer is positively beaming. She’s just had five cash finishes while the WSOP’s been on, three at the WSOP and two at the Belagio’s shadow events. She’s on fire. In more ways than one (but neither literally). Last time we met she was tired and jet lagged and I was mr. motor mouth, this time it was exact opposite. Jen was regaling us with stories of her colourful life, notably of her childhood upbringing in the remote woods where their hens roamed wild in the forest as a result of her hippy father’s lax fencing efforts and they had to find the eggs each morning, sounded fun.
In an attempt to lose the sweet girly girl image at the poker table, Jen got herself this awesome sparkly belt buckle the size of a plate with Jennifer “Fucking” Tilly written on it, the lady rocks.

JFT at the IRISH OPEN 07

SIX K BLIND ANTE

Meanwhile Phil was buzzing after a massive win a couple of days previously. It was some sic game he was playing where at one stage the whole table were calling a $6,000 bet blind. He managed to extract his fifth biggest victory from these lunatics. Great, dinners on Phil, yes I’ll have another beer.

32 37 44 83

Phil refers to “ordering errors” as being irrelevant as each dish is only ten bucks, “you can’t go wrong” he keeps saying. It’s as if ordering a meal is a limped call, there is no distinction between poker and life for Phil. He whips out his phone and starts chanting numbers at the waiter “I’ll have a 32, 37, 44, 83”. This sums Phil up, he took down the numbers of each dish he liked. He sounds like rain man. The waiter doesn’t know the dishes by number. We order so much food that it doesn’t matter what comes, we will be fed.
After eating our own body weights in most excellent Thai food we blab on about various poker, backgammon and fashion issues. It was a fun night, I wish I’d more energy, but sure sometimes it’s nice to listen.

WINNING IT

Both Phil and Jen are on top form and in a good place to have a serious chance of cash finishes at the WSOP. I’m going to have a reality-creating session with Phil before he starts play tomorrow.

Now I better get back to some more general posts for you, respiration and perspiration is the title of my next post. Hold your horses, it’ll be here soon.

The F and the FOJ

INTRO:

Well things is really heating up here in the big V. With the main event just moments away there are more poker players knocking about than there are frogs in Cavan*. We’re currently based in the Gaming Life Expo (GLE) promoting the Irish Open to WSOP players and WSOP wannabes. This is in a room that’s about the size of four soccer (football to you Europeans) pitches. This is next door to the main event hall which is just a lil bit smaller. All joined up by canyonesque corridors that have no quantifiable end and are as wide as my moustache is cool (that’s very very wide smart orse)

CONTEXT:

Following Jesse May’s advice of playing the pokies at the bar in the Belagio and skulling the comped margaritas, I found myself somewhere between merry and mouldy last night (and up a couple hundred bucks from video poker, thanks Jess.) We then traipsed over to studio 54 to show the American’s how to celebrate FOJ in true paddy style. Current status delicate but improving.

I MEAN I HEARD RIO WAS BIG:

The scale of rooms in this place is difficult to imagine, the walls curve with the crust of the earth, carpets have horizons and I’m not sure there’s a ceiling in this place, but it’s not 10,000 degrees in here so there must be something up there. Sometimes you find a ceiling hovering above your head with no visible wall holding it up. Basically there isn’t a room this size in Ireland. This convention centre is probably bigger than Ireland. Well it feels that way. Although these days Ireland seems like a distant memory, a place I was from before I moved to Vegas. (I know I know I know I have to come back don’t spoil my fantasy.)

GLE BAGS:

The GLE is full of exhibitors with any sort of tenuous link to gaming and/or male focused activities. That would be poker clothing companies, strip clubs, offline poker events, poker mags and there’s an electric guitar stall opposite us. *air guitars*. Couples (always two) of hot, leggy promo girls pepper the room and distribute flyers, LOL at each others jokes and somehow seem plastic, unfocused, day dreaming the American Dream. Like gazelles on the plains of Africa, the idly stand there looking cute and scanning the horizon.

EAR ME NOW:

There is an infernal racket in this room, Gwen Stefani is the over powering noise on the PA, machines whirr, bases thud, American’s squeak, noise from plasma screens fills any audio gap.

WALK THE WALK:

Pop out the door and you get to the never ending corridor which links the searing heat of hell (the smoking area) to the icy fresh heaven of the WSOP (and probably the north and south poles the long way round.) Like me, the Main Hall looks much better than in photographs. Also, like me, it’s incredibly bright with a dark side. Oh and a third comparison, like Orla, it’s also very airey and full of men. (ONLY kidding Orla don’t take it personally!)

GOOOOO-OOOOD, GOOD, GOOD ROSSBERVATIONS:

The main hall has 200 tables, I counted something like 15 by 13 –YOU do the math(s). In one corner is the TV feature table, which has a raised platform and seating for about a hundred or so. It’s a really dark area and I’m underwhelmed at ESPN’s robotic camera’s and general cost efficiency (hey who said cheapness?) of the production, but I guess they are filming for the best part of two months and it’s not the size of the camera counts, it’s the size of your [ed: penis reference removed]

SO CAMP:

Outside the main hall is the massively unpopular marquee which is home to another 60 or so tables. EPT winner Vicky Cohen had a pretty miserable story from the tent where the air con was a bit faulty and started repeatedly blowing her cards over – eventually mucking her hand to knock her out of a tournament. Had Vicky attended the Irish Open this year she would have got an oh so fancy and storm proofed card guard that would have kept them cards in place – our American counterparts are selling the card guards for a whopping $30. [camp voice] “Kaching!” [/camp voice]

LAST MINUTE UPDATE: Orla just tells me that the aircon in that tent is now broken – ouch 60 tables down has gotta hurt someone.

WHAT FOLLOWS IS BULLSH!T:

Apparently (see comment in last post about the following being bullsh1t) she also got hypothermia from the same air con vent, which is quiet an accomplishment in 115 (for once not an exagerossation) degree heat.

Ah THAT’S where the plasters were:

Back to the main hall, with so many events and cash games taking place, it’s like that drawer you have in your house/flat/cave which you keep random stuff in, it’s busy, you can’t find what you’re looking for and there’s always something distracting you – Ewe a leaked battery!

FEELING FAINT:

Loads of cash games, was looking at a $400/$800 limit game (I’d be pretending to faint UTG for 6 minutes every round!) generally there’s some tournament finishing up, another one half way through and some player somewhere telling a bad beat story to Houdiniesque type audience (they’d be trying to escape y’see, that’s why I said houdini.)

TRUSS ME I’M IRISH:

Again the scale of the event can’t fail to impress, the entire ceiling has been covered with trussing on which they hang a light over every table and a system of CC cameras. Trust or trussle me, putting up that much rigging and getting a light over every table costs, and I would say we’re talking millions here. The walls around the room carry giant photographs of previous winners with an oh-so-clever blacked out player with a question mark for 2007. Mel Judah suggested I play a little game where I try to work out why some of the photos are different. He then ruined his game by immediately telling me that deceased winners had black and white photos. Doyle Brunson is an oasis of colour on a grey wall. Either end of the room has queues (or lines as they are now known) for registration and cashier. For the audiophiles out there, the noise of thousands of riffled chips and poker table mumbling is only interrupted by a microphone announcer looking for Mike B on five ten no limit, that’s Mike B on five ten no limit. Last call Mike or we’re going to release your seat.

NOSEY:

Smell being the most invigorating of the senses I should tell you more about it, however all the aircon just makes your nose a hard dry cavern, acting as a little roof for the tash, a sun glass holder, and barrier preventing my eyes from hitting off each other. Speaking of facial hair, there’s a LOT of banditos like mine here. Setting myself a misson of getting photographs of people with the same one as me. There’s a lot of knowing nods, we know we’re cool.

PALY:

It’s not a word I use every day, but the atmos is palpable, what’s set to be the biggest show on earth is just about to kick off and we’re within spitting distance of it. That would be if your spit didn’t evaporateas in the 3% humidity. I mean I’m what is it two thirds water? I’m competing with a lot of thirsty air. You sweat and dry immediately. Right now there’s gallons of water that belongs in me floating around the Vayge.

NEXT STEPS:

Meeting the guys from Card Player shortly, and then the online qualifiers later tonight. Metup with Phil Laak earlier on today just after his charity heads up game with Antonio Esfandiari and he’s such a gent that’ll require a posting all of it’s own. Better put this live now.

PUCKER UP, I’LL BE BACK SOON:

All for now, peace out hommies, next post shall be called “the Pace of Phil Laak”

==================================================================

The end bit that nobody reads it has feelings too y’know?

* Europe’s biggest frog farm is in Cavan, Ireland.
F is for four, F is for Five and OJ is for “Of July” I acronymised ‘em meself.

the jacket everyone’s talking about, being modelled by the invisible man in this picture:

EDITORS NOTE: Erm Ross if I was you I would throw the hairy coat at the zombie woman on the left and run like the clappers… high fashion isn’t going to help you look better if half your face gets chewed off!

Apparently, and often sentences beginning with apparently really mean that “the following is bullsh1t”, the human brain is a prediction machine. Based on our experiences or gained knowledge we predict things.
Before arriving in Ross Vegas, I had bundles of expectations loosely based on what people had told me and what I had seen in various films based in Sin City. Clever me decided to avoid the potential wealth of information available online, sure the internet’s for losers, and I dear reader plan on being a winner while in Vice City.
What follows is my attempt to accurately portray common, no, not common, I meant popular opinions of the big V. I have run out of metaphors for the place, so lets all just go back to Vegas for convegaience. This portrail (or poor-trail wha wha) of Vegas will be a great reminder for those of you who have been here, an efficient disappoint for those of you who have yet to arrive here and a moderate distraction for those who have no intention of ever coming here but are just bored in work and thought they’d have a quick gander at this blog.
Context: hotel room in bally’s, 1.30am my time, 9.30am your time, July 4th for both of us, wow we’ve so much in common, what are you doing Friday? Sort of sobering up, hungry, sleepy.
My god it’s got so long and I haven’t even started on my first impressions and expectations theme, which leads me in to my first point which is size. The place is foking huge. So people tell you, its foking massive, you’ve seen photos, you know it’s big. Not until you are on the street and attempt to get to the casino or hotel across the road do you realise how big it is. While dodging American’s in their billion-litre *takes sip of vit c drink in attempt to combat sore throat* *doesn’t care if you simply hate people who still write actions inside asterixes* one can potter (it’s warmer than piss outside, I will not be running, zipping or nipping whilst here) across the street and realise the casino that one could see from one’s hotel room is in fact a mirage (remember we are in the desert here, mmm dessert) and is ten taxi journeys away.

These giant buildings seems so small and close, they’re bigger than everything you have ever seen combined, stuck together with flashy lights on top. They are a mind trick. They are ten taxi journeys away.
Hot so bloody 7uck!ng hot. Ah Ross FFS do you have to curse so much? Yes, yes I do, non cursing would give you the impression that the heat is tolerable. Without air conditioning I would be dead. Such a dependence on electricity, is both depressingly claustrophobic and er, eh, pressingly sobering. Lets face it, if there was no electricity we’d all be pretty much dead within a wee while anyway, in Vegas on the 4th of July when it’s 200degreesthat’swhytheycallmemisterFahrenheit your death will just be a bit quicker. Death Vegas style. So turn off that light champ, respect the energy dude.
Apologies for unnecessary interlude, please see context paragraph above. Sometimes it’s not so easy being me.

Anyways, back to AC. I have no idea whatsoever how people survived in this heat pre-AC. I feel like a Chinese dinner that has been passed from the tolerable icyness of the fridge to the arid yoursweatevaporatesimmediately heat of the oven one time too many. Lips cracked, nose and lungs achey, throat sore, skin failure imminent.
Time for Vegas Theory Number One me thinketh, so you have these air-conned casino’s the size of small planets pumping their hot air out on to the streets, I think the streets are artificially hot. Which brings me on to my next point, “eh where was the first ‘point’?” I hear you ask, okay, my next thing I will be tumbling away on: Artificialisation. Do not be fooled reader, everything there ever was started in Vegas. A conservative estimate would put Vegas at being approximately 6,000 years old. Caesar himself has a palace here, them crafty iTalianos robbed the idea for Venice from here, the Brazillians (the people of Brasil, not the pubeless) borrowed the entire concept of Rio from a casino just off the strip (oh there’s a fantastic pun in there somewhere) and even the Eygptians were in on the ripping off vegas game, they got the idea for the pyramids from our Nevada thinkers.
Las Vegas truly is the centre of the universe where all the great ideas of planet earth were first implemented. Don’t be fooled when you visit these seemingly older but artificial cities of Europe or deserts of north Africa, it happened here first and I’ve the photo’s to prove it.
The only mystery is how Las Vegas happened to be here long before the original and thus owning first white settlers arrived. That’s a question for some scientist and does not require your further thought sir, is the response I got from my friendly customs official. And sleep.

And back in the room. One of my fav creations of LV’s Founding Fathers is Paris which is just down the elevator and through the labarynth (spell check to be abandoned if I have any hope of posting this tonight) that goes between bally’s and “Paris”. Features include a metal tower type structure that looks a lot like the tower in blackpool and some crazily creative names included Le Café, Le Reception and Le Restrooms. SO clever are the LVFFs – they could have the fun of speaking like an eejit while keeping it accessible. The Real French meanwhile oh la la and ooh la bof at [interactive feature: finish this sentence yourself!]
Aside thought, there’s no homeless people in las vegas. How odd.

Poker
So I guess since you’re reading this far you’re really really bored. Man, go do something with your life, just work out what you want to do, focus on it and it can be achieved! Go for it!
But no, you’ll keep reading, this has to stop, billions of pages online and you’re the sucker, probably the only one left reading this rant. Think about it. Is this how you wanted your life to be? When you were six did you think you’d grow up to be a reader of the banal? A student of the mundane? A literary garbage disposal? Yeah? Really? Great, read on, lots more garbage to come.

Went to the Planet Hollywood poker room last night. Real slick casino, huge, lovely food, what feels like a six story feelings inside, eh that was meant to say ceilings, but why not have a six story feeling? I liked it that much. The dizzying carpet (so you’ll look at the gaming machines) and I-cant-get-out-of-your-money-robbin’-casino design not as obvious as the older casinos – real classy wood panelling and brown and cream carpets etc. very pleasant.

The poker room has giant, really low tables with funky comfy chairs that apparently, ahem, cost $750 each. We ended up at PH because bally’s and paris cancelled their tournaments because all their dealers were over at the WSOP. We also ended up here because it was the closest place, a quick zip zap boing over the hot coals from the door of Paris.
Played a $60 tournament, well the buy in options were $50 for $1,500 in chips or $60 for $4,000 *rubs moustache sarcastically* - answers why this is so, the buy in, not my rubbing to be posted below hombre.
106 runners, came 15th just outside the cash, made two mistakes, had some nice cards. Really enjoyable venue, nice staff, good atmos, clearly very weak players if I got as far as fifteenth. Overall gets a five stars and two thumbs up from me.

Tonight, well earlier tonight, or yesterday for you, after a very fortunate run of roulette at the Rio, yes my 30 red system is in full effect *watches vegas quiver and cower* we cabbed over to Caesars Palace to play the $120 (that would be $90 plus $30 reg fee, Ahem ahem ahem) was a bit tipsy and tired, NO FOOD available apparently (smells of BS to me in this case) in this 1000 room plus resort. Blood sugar low, K3 looks like good hand, cookie jar seems open, puts hand in cookie jar, puts other hand in cookie jar – gets bitched slapped. Stands up. Walks away. Donates money to roulette table. Walks back to bally’s experiencing insta-evaporating-sweat. Starts writing this muck.
WSOP
There’s also a larger poker event taking place in town called the Wasp. World Series of something, not sure, I hadn’t heard of it either. Just so happened to be a good few Irishes I know over there.
Rather nice decorated room, better than what you’d see in photos, giant place, cool atmos.
Bumped in to Brendan TV Murray from Card Player Europe, who was secretly delighted to have some paddies to listen to his whining about having to cross the road to buy a box of cigarettes (only kidding Bren I LOVE these stories)

Then met Andy Black who’s been playing every tournament and cash table in all of las vegas and some of the games at the bicycle in LA non stop for the past ten years it seems. Apparently there was what would be best described as a kafuffle earlier. Andy phsyichally threatening another player, dammit I missed it sounds interesting. Andy’s line on it was that it “was not a headlock” interpret as you will.
Then the familiar heads of separated Siamese twins Padraig Parkinson and Scott Gray were seen bobbling along through the main hall. Bit of banter with them, both seem in good spirits and relaxed, the perfect combo for a ginosauras tournament, I’ve decided they’ll both cash at the Wasp Main Event this year. Good for them.
On the way to the tilted kilt bar, we endured a card trick (although I use trick sparingly) from Mad Marty Wilson.
Discombobulated me sleep now, wont even read thru this – sorry that you felt you had to read this far. Please now turn off your computer and go for a walk. Rain is not an excuse, oh how I’d love some rain! Me gone. Manana peace out.

A tumble is a typed mumble, some buildings actually have the word mirage written above them, do not be fooled, they are real. McClarren airport is right beside the strip, did not expect that.

Well the flight is booked, the hotel is dusting down the royal suite and the casino vaults are getting ready for the biggest moment in Las Vegaseseses history - the arrival of the Ross.

I’ll be posting daily reports from Sin City, so stick the kettle on, put your feet up and prepare to be transplanted in to the capital of cool by reading the words from my blog.